


Blue Eyes and Neon Skies

by BlueHedgehog, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Blind Character, Hypothermia, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12992298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHedgehog/pseuds/BlueHedgehog, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: How many lives does it take to find redemption?(Entries for Promdyn Ship Week.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Promdyn Ship Week  
> Day 4 - "To Hell with Destiny" - Reincarnation AU

The sky hung over the city like the fur of a drowned cat. It had been raining for days, but Insomnia, as the name said never slept, and who was this city that wasn't afraid of the darkness to shy away from a little water?

The glow of the neon signs that shouted out into the streets made the puddles little jewelry boxes of light and color, and the hasty steps of the occasional passersby ruined any proper reflection they might have managed.

There was some bumping in the crowd, someone jostling shoulders by moving left and right around the ad holograms, with rarely heard “sorry” and “excuse me.” Prompto disliked walking through them. You never knew which one actually had a person behind it, and passing through a live hologram made the puppeteers teeth buzz, on top of being just plain rude.

“Spare a penny, spare a dime, spare a penny, spare some time...” A low singsong from a pleasant voice, velvet and gold and somehow _homely_ , down at his feet. A homeless fellow at a street corner, ignored by all of them, layers over layers over dirt and a crumpled hat before him.

Something about him made Prompto stop, sent a shiver down his spine in something very much like recognition. He didn't know that guy, though, he was certain about that as well. Either way…

There was a coin in the hat now, and a soaked grocery bag beside it, and a moment later, another face on the same level as the homeless man's. Milky eyes looked at him. Not a man yet, not fully. Traces of a beard and messy red hair, a once pretty face badly scarred. “A dime and some time, Mister?” His slightly crooked smile war as sweet as his voice.

“Yeah, I got both.” Prompto rummaged through the bag. “And a snack.” Crackers. Sweet corn, not soy, in a fancy looking wrapper.

“You're too kind. Still are.” A dirty hand that _almost_ touched his face, like the blind boy could see him just too well.  
  
_Still?_ He smiled, showing the laugh lines around his eyes. The kid had to be desperate if he took food from strangers. That was how people on the streets disappeared. “Nah, it's fine. I'm Prompto. You got a name?”

A frown, and a shake of the head. “Not one of any importance. Is your hair still flax and gold? Your cheeks still full of tiny stars?” A tear ran down the dirty cheek. Was this a trick? Maybe.

Maybe he had implants, making up for the loss of his sight, but anyone who could afford those also had enough money to not have to deal with dirt or scars or cataracts in the first place. Maybe there was a jack at the base of his skull, where his hair hid it, and he had been a miner. The corps just threw the kids away when their reaction times slowed. He might just have seen pictures of Prompto: They still had data fragments stuck in their head sometimes, and being online for months at a time did strange things to your mind.

Whatever it was, he was sure enough that the boy was hurt, and couldn't hurt him. “Yeah.” He kept his voice soft. “Blond and freckled. How do you know?”

“It's not your real name, right? Not the one your parents gave you. It's one you chose for yourself, because it felt like it should be yours.” Grimey hands felt for Prom's hand, held it like a vulnerable little bird. “Are you happy?”

The kid was weirdly emotional and yet, he didn't seem high or particularly off, just someone meeting an old friend by accident and being equally glad and surprised.

“I changed it along with a few other things. Not a natural blond, either.” He didn't answer the last question. There was that feeling again, that spark of recognition. There was an emotion tied to it, whatever you called what was left when old grudges softened and died. It was not that he didn't believe in those things, lives lived and forgotten, there was so much more than he could ever imagine, but that kind of sentiment didn't carry you very far in this world, and he had _this_ life to live.

He was here now, though. Right now, it mattered. “Who were we to each other?”

“I _loved_ you. You...” His head sank down, his words a mumble. “You despised me, and rightfully so. We had a _grand old time_ then.”

It felt like something scratching on the inside of his skull, and Prompto closed his eyes, repeated the words in his mind. The voice changed, just barely, into something a little more mature, and he knew the eyes beneath those clouds were amber. There was the idea of Gods and Kings and Magic, so very long ago. The King of Light had been the last, after him the Gods had disappeared, along with the Crystal, and together they had taken their magic with them. 

He had been there.

“How do you remember? I get... bits and pieces, now that we're talking, but--”

 “I remember _everything_ , Quicksilver. Every life, every death. They couldn't just let me go after everything I did, now could they?” A desperate little laugh. “No rest for the wicked, as they say. Wait until _he_ wakes up again, and remembers, and if he is willing to forgive you, you may pass away. Until then, you'll suffer like those you made suffer, mortal and vulnerable just like them. And they said it was _me_ that was resentful.”

 The name was on the tip of his tongue. “You haven't found him yet.” Prompto sighed. “You know what? I changed my mind about the snack.”

“Only fair.” The blind boy shrugged. “Quite a lot of things would be, coming from you. But you remember him? Hair like a cloudy night, and always so very tired?”

“Maybe. It's all very vague.” Still, less so than it had been in his dreams. He hadn't thought about those in a while. “And I think you got me wrong there. You don't need a snack, you need a proper meal. And a fucking bath, I'm sorry.”

“Well, I don't have to look at me, and the nose gives up after a while.” No connection was made between Prom's words and the idea of an _offer_.

Good thing the boy could not see Prompto rolling his eyes. “You good to get up and walk? Because the kitchen and the tub are at my place, and I'm not gonna carry them here.”

“Very vague indeed, then.” Getting up was a little ritual. First he emptied the hat, then carefully hid the few coins that had collected there between his layers, then sorted those layers, unfolded a cane and only then got up, the hat on his head. “Lead the way.”

“My elbow's by your left hip.” He remembered this part, the same way he remembered the color of the other's eyes. Only this wasn't how it had been. _Who_ it had been. A hand on his arm. This, too, was a thing that had been, but there was no possessiveness in this touch. Prompto didn't do this, usually, but something was happening that had to happen now, or never would.

It wasn't far, an apartment in one of the surrounding high-rise blocks - a reasonably clean one, even, with a working elevator. The door clicked open for Prompto. "Plus guest," he said. Something chirped, and he lead the boy inside. “There's a chair one step ahead.”

The boy's cane hit the leg of the chair, and he stood still, listening into the silence of the room, his head slightly tilted. “You really don't _have_ to do this. If you brought me here to finally exact your revenge, I will understand and accept it.”

“Revenge... hm.” The groceries hit the counter of the small kitchen alcove, and Prompto started unpacking. “Depends on how much you hate soap.”

“Depends on the flavor, really.” A little laugh that gave him goosebumps, and the slight pat-pat-sound of the cane as the blind boy carefully started to explore his surroundings.

“Just plain.” Prompto took a deep breath, willed the goosebumps away. Whoever they had been, there was some ugly history there. Just... “Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll talk over dinner.”

“Would you mind showing me the bathroom? It's hard to know which bottle is for which body part by smell alone.”

“Sure.” It was fairly simple to remember, what little there was in products was easily distinguished by shape, and the whole place reacted to voice command.

“Shorter hair, this time?”

“Longer, I suppose. Here.” Prompto tilted his head, and led the boy's hand to a fairly long ponytail. The hand trailed down the hair, up again, along his jawline, afraid to find a beard, and finding a narrow, clean shaven face instead. His fingernails clicked against what felt like a heavy pair of glasses.

“Oh, at least that.” A sigh of relief. “May I take a proper look at you when I'm finished here and out of quarantine?”

That got him a laugh. “Why not?”

Prompto left. Rustling and clanking filtered through the thin walls a moment later, and a bit after that, singing.

The boy took his time. Out of the wet clothes and under a hot shower, in a place where he probably was _safe_ for a while, even though he probably wouldn't be any longer as soon as he told his host about the details of their earlier encounters. Well, maybe he wouldn't ask…

“You done in there?” The question came a few moments after the water had stopped. “I left some clothes outside the door, right by the frame.”

A hand that was formerly dirty reached out and grabbed them. “Thank you!” through the half-opened door. It didn't take long for the boy to get into the clean clothes. A little bit worn and wide on his slim frame, but in jogging pants and a shirt, his short hair washed and wild around his head, he looked like a different person.

“Yeah, that's better. Table's set. You got this?”

“I do think so, even though I never wanted to get into your pants _this_ way.” Again, that slightly lopsided grin that made him look so much older.

A moment of silence.

This was... Prompto didn't even have the words to describe the feeling, stuck somewhere between amusement, disbelief, and a vague memory of fear, of tables turned. Instead he told the boy where to find the table, then bowl and spoon. Actual rice, vegetables that almost pulled off tasting like they hadn't been freeze-dried, and some kind of sauce that didn't even smell all that chemical.

Not being able to see Prom's face twitch in disgust took away the rest of the little enjoyment this memory had, and without the daemons boiling inside of him of him the boy looked back on what he had done to his host, this stranger that was so kind to him now, without the black filter that had twisted his world for so long. He had been aware that it had been bad, but it was this sudden moment of complete realization that made his face drop.

For a moment, Prompto watched him. They hadn't just been anyone, had they? Because if this happened to everyone who still had crimes to forgive or be forgiven, there would be a whole religion, industry, or both around reincarnation. They hadn't just been anyone, and he remembered the King, dark-haired and so tired. The rest only followed.

“Listen... If a new life isn't a new chance, what else is? That's how I see it, at least. You have nothing to worry about. Whatever you did. And I'm starting to have a pretty good idea what you did.”

The boy shook his head. “I sincerely hope you don't. I wasn't myself at that time. Very much not.”

“And who are you? Now. In this life. A name would be a good start, really.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promdyn Ship Week  
> Day Five: In the Dark, a Light - Prompto as Ardyn’s Oracle AU / Ardyn seeking redemption through Prompto’s forgiveness

It was later, several meals and two nights of sleep later, when the boy gave a name. His things were packed, and he was good to go, afraid of Prompto's reaction.

It was mild, even though the name clearly rang a bell. Prompto was quiet for a while, then said, "There is something I would like to show you."

"I will not run, no matter what it is."

"Good, because I think this is important. I just need to know if you're blind from birth with or went blind later, first." Sure, he could see that the boy's eyes were clouded, but that might have been an additional issue, not the original one.

“Only later. I was six or seven years old when they took my eyes, so I'd understand what I was missing.“

In a way, it was good that he couldn't see Prompto's face. There was anger on open display, and he might have mistaken its target. "You're familiar with neuro interfaces?"

“Not intimately. Always left things like these to the scientists, but that us quite a while ago. Before the wars, way before them. Why are you asking?“

"Because I'm about to put one on your head and I wanted to know if you need a warning on what's going to happen."

The boy's lips became a tight line in his face. “I'd rather not.“

He could here something metallic click down on the table behind him. "I sure won't force you. It's just that... I've always been better showing than telling, I guess." Prompto sighed. "It's how I make a living, by the way. Making puppets. Avatars. Landscapes. So if I want to explain things, it's what I fall back on."

“I do not wish ill to befall you just because someone misunderstands a friendly gesture, much as I would love to know.“

"Just take it with you, then. It's got some data stored on-board. My number, address and navigation, among other things. You're always welcome here." Silence again, then, "The door is right ahead of you, I'm not between you and the exit, so if this is too crazy for you, you can just up and leave: I had a dream. Only I think it was more of a vision."

“You had? I'm sorry.“ The boy sat down on the floor. Visions were usually serious business. “Do you wish to tell me about it?“

"Yeah, because it was about you, more or less. Looks like I got two jobs, now."

“You wish to start with “So I went to sleep“ or something among those lines.“ A smile, his head cocked.

Prompto snorted. "That's what I mean. A lot better showing than telling. Anyway... There was a woman, I think I knew her, in that other life." He stopped. "No, I definitely knew her, and because I did, I'm... pretty clear on who we were. So..." Another sigh, and then, a lot more decisively, "Luna came to see me last night."

A long sigh. “How much easier would it be for you to _show_?“

"Enough to even consider asking a blind kid with no VR experience to work with that interface."

“Oh my. So... what do I need to know beforehand?“

"For what we're doing, not much. It's gonna sting a bit for about a second when you connect, that's one. The body you'll be moving around isn't yours, you'll just sit here, that's another. We won't take long, so that won't matter much." It took some practice to notice things like hunger, thirst, or other pressing issues. Even more to keep a literal eye or ear on the surroundings. "You'll _see_ within the sim, that's the biggest one, but that's the whole point."

A slow, very slow nod. “As I said, I won't run. You do what you want to do.“ There was a certain tension in his body. He didn't seem too comfortable, and Prom knew this was nothing that happened often.

Prompto sighed, and picked up the interface again. He would see _why_ soon enough. "Sorry about that. Deep breath."

It felt like a metal hairband being pushed onto his head, followed by a low hum, and the sting he had been warned about, a split second migraine, there and then gone. There was a short moment of disorientation, leaving him with only a vague feeling for the position of his own limbs, and a sensation like falling, that quick imagined drop just when you were about to fall asleep.

It stopped almost as soon as it had started. He was standing now - feet clearly underneath him, where they belonged - and the darkness he had lived in for so long literally peeled away. Before him lay a dimly lit hall, walls and floor checkered in light and dark grey. As far as first things to see went, this was _boring_ , but easy enough to process.

"Take your time to adjust." Prompto was standing somewhere behind him, from the sound of it.

“You mean the sickness will go away?“ The boy in the simulation sat down gingerly. Focused on the floor below and on his breathing. _This was horrible_.

The legs and hands that came into view _felt_ like his own, clothes and shoes included, _looked_ like them, too. Probably. Everything was a little bit _off_ , missing details that only he would notice. The rest of the body, beneath the layers - and there was a beneath - was even more off.

"Yes, it will," Prompto said, sat down next to him. "That's just your brain trying to work out what to do with all this new info. I had to guess a little for your avatar, but a good guess is still better than a dummy when it comes to that. Your own body or something close is usually more comfortable to start out with."

Prompto, too, seemed like someone had made a really good guess at his features from that previous life. The height matched, as did his build, still wiry muscle. His hair didn't. It _was_ longer, a loose ponytail reaching to the middle of his back, blond strands falling out here and there, and even on his avatar, ginger roots showed. What had felt like glasses earlier were thin metal grafts on his temples, reaching from the top of his ears to his cheekbones. He hadn't put too much thought into clothes for this, apparently. A black tank top, black jeans, black boots. Simple.

His face was close enough, but not the same. Maybe a cousin. Or an uncle, because this Prompto was not a boy, but a man in his late thirties or early forties, Still freckled, even though the pattern didn't match. Smiling now, and probably often, going by the lines in his face. The smile was the same.

The eyes were the same.

The boy poked at the things hidden beneath his layers. Pulled a face. Every magic this moment might have contained was overridden by his whole system protesting against this, and Prompto saw him heave drily a few times before he decided he was stronger than his stomach.

“Is this _you_ or what you remember?“

"Me, as I am now." Prompto waved his hand, and third body appeared in front of them, growing from the ground up from what looked like a million tiny glass shards clicking together. Prompto Argentum, twenty years old, down to every patch and button of his Crownsguard uniform. "This is what I remember, as of last night."

"I think there were more _fucks_ on the patches." They boy got up on unsteady feet and _almost_ touched the mirage, as if he didn't dare to. "But you got the hair right. Never understood how you did it then."

"Unholy amounts of gel and hairspray. If I look at it long enough it's like I can feel it in my palms. I know that, and there are emotions that come up, but there are so many more important things I draw a blank on. I went through the records. This is still somebody else."

"That is not necessarily a bad thing. He spent most of his time being unhappy." The little hand drew a smile onto the unmoving lips.

The mouth moved along, stuck in a small, uncertain curve.

"All of them did, in one way or another, and with good reason, I guess. Not what we're here for, though."

"And what are we here for?" His hand came to a rest on the spiky wristband that the memory of Quicksilver still wore.

Prompto waved his hand again, and a flurry of tiny diamonds rose to shape a white dress, pale skin, blond hair, and a trident held tight. "We're here for her."

The smile on the boy's face was strangely nostalgic. "So you finally got to meet her. What a lovely girl she was."

"And very insistent. We talked for a while, last night. About chances and inheritance, mostly. Lineage is a funny thing."

"How is she, over there? Is she _happy_?" That seemed to concern him more than most other things.

"I'd say yes. She was so calm it-- radiated from her." He moved his fingers a bit, and her smile shifted, all content, peaceful expressions, but he didn't seem satisfied with any of them. "I can't quite get a hold of it."

"A touch more merry mischief, probably?"

Prompto frowned, and the face kept changing as he talked. "She told me that you, from a metaphysical point of view, are still you, as you always have been. All debts and conditions included. Me? I've been thrown about on the wheel of death and rebirth enough to make it count, but not enough to count me out."

It was the eyes, in the end, a little quirk of the eyebrows, so small it shouldn't have made a difference. It did, and there it was, a streak of amusement right behind the serene smile. He stopped there, nodded. "She could still find me, and of the ones she could find, I'm the only one she could leave a gift with." He tapped the metal protruding from his skull.

“All debts included? Just _great_.“ The boy's head sank down. “So this is just punishment, not a way to pay anything off. I see. How very _fitting_ for everything else.“

"Not quite. That's where the gift comes in and why this is so important." Prompto walked over to the picture he painted, lifelike as it was, and ran his fingers over the weapon she held. "I didn't build this. When I woke up, the Trident was stored in my external memory. Can't edit or delete it." He turned his head to the boy to see if the pieces were coming together.

"An apparition from the realms beyond gifts you a weapon like this, and the first thing you do is try to delete it." Ardyn's face would have made a good _meh_ -meme, until something clicked. "A weapon like this..." he repeated. Started giggling, and, in the end, laughing hysterically.

Prompto let him, for the moment, and finished the thought. They needed to be on the same page here. " _This_ weapon, specifically. I'm really not the religious type... but I guess that's how it goes. You're the only one who still has a use for the Oracle, and it seems like that's me, on some strange technicalities."

Ardyn sank down on his knees, face buried in his hands, laughing or sobbing or both. "You... you would do that for me?" pressed out between heavy breaths.

The body constructed for him could shiver, he found, could shed tears.

"It's not entirely up to me," Prompto said.

“If you call them, they'll have to pick up. Bit like a hotline, really. Won't stop them from being impolite. Hotline, as I said.“ The simulation was mercifully unrealistic in one aspect. No snot to accompany the tears.

"It depends on you just as much."

When Prompto stepped away to conjure up another figure, the Trident stayed where it was. Red and grey and black shards, now, circling together in layers.

"We haven't really been on the best terms for quite a while, but I suppose she insisted on telling you that, too."

There were records, of course, references all over the place. There would have been more than enough pictures of Chancellor Izunia to draw from, but this - he had felt this needed to be done from what he called memory for the lack of a better word. And so, the man between him and the boy was just a little too tall, a little too broad in the shoulders, the eyes a little sharper - a predator, head to toe.

“Oh hello there.“ The boy seemed to like what he saw. “But I wasn't that _impressive_ , was I? Even though, from this perspective... he looked up at the being created in his own image towering above him.

The puppet moved, turned to face the boy directly, took one seemingly casual step towards him, legs long enough to land it deep in his personal space.

Ardyn tried to grin as the ornate boot came down between his legs, but Prompto saw him flinch, lean back onto his hands, desperate to create at least _some_ distance between his former self and the one he was now.

"You are trying to make a point. I guess that's only fair, right? Right?" A slight edge to the golden voice as the mirage slowly bowed down, a gloved hand with sharp nails _almost_ touching his smooth face.

Prompto's eyes lingered on the scene for a moment. He frowned slightly, nodded. "Just making sure."

The puppet retreated, stood back upright where it had been a moment ago.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promdym Ship Week  
> Day 6: Ardyn keeping Prompto warm after he collapses in the snow

Prompto still had a day job, and there were preparations to make, so it took a while before the first attempt at a covenant. One of the necessary precautions had been for the kid to be able to log in and out without assistance, to recognize emergencies and get himself to safety. It wouldn't do to go all this way and then have him squashed by a frustrated deity.

Titan did not care where the other five had gone, sat beneath the earth as always, physical and heavy, his answer only low roll and rumble through the landlines and Prompto's skull. He did not care what had happened to their old problem, either.

“He's never been much of a talker, and never much of a happy-go-lucky-fellow. Probably not a fan of this new world, too. Cutting him open even more to plunder his bones. But then, who would be? Whom shall we try next? Old man Thunder probably isn't a wise idea with this much circuitry around.“

"More powerful here than he's even been, too, if I had to guess. Bit much take on right now." He sighed. "I think Shiva. Feels right." Prompto stuck to the landscape he had picked for his meeting with the Archean, the hills of rural 8th century Duscae. Not one of his works, but pretty, and close enough to the real thing. "You ready?"

“Shiva...“ A long sigh. “As ready one can be for an unannounced visit at a former lover. Are you?“

In reply, Prompto stood, lifted the Trident, and...

He didn't get very far. Whatever signal he had sent into the void to test if she was there at all, was greeted with an icy wind. He attempted to speak the words, Luna had told him how this worked, but the words froze on his lips as dark clouds pushed in, brought heavy snow along. Within seconds, they were standing in the middle of what was already a blizzard. Even though there were only a few steps of distance between them, he quickly lost sight of the boy, and then of everything. The next gust was harsh enough to leave rime in their hair, and along Prompto's implants. It shouldn't have made a difference. These were copies, purely cosmetic inside the sim, touching them had no effect whatsoever on the real thing, but the sharp pain shooting through his temples told a different story.

"I'm glad to see you too, Queen of the Glaciers, Mistress of the Sleep in the Crystalline White, Lady of Merciful Veils. Would you be so kind to leave him out of this? It is I that deserves your grudge." The boy's breath stood white in the air. His layers were little armor for this cool Hello.

She didn't dignify him with an answer. There was no face to talk to, only the cold, and the snow, and Prompto sinking to his knees amidst it.  
Ardyn stripped of his coat, a shirt of palms and glitches beneath, and tried to wrap th efabric around his oracle. "Don't be like that, my dearest. Let us do this like we used to do, not with one who'll pray to neither one of us." The golden voice was unsteady in the icy winds.

No words, still, but her reply was much clearer this time - an icicle from above, very nearly pinning him to the ground. A warning shot.

At this juncture, or so the plan had been, Prompto should have aborted and gotten them out. Instead, he was scratching at his implants with his free hand, the other a vice around the Trident. "C-can... c-can you log-?"

The boy's gaze drifted somewhere beyond the white, and shortly after, a smile came to his lips. "I understand. And yet, he has nothing to do with this. If you want to keep me in your embrace, I will not keep you, but _leave him be_." Every ounce of warmth he had in his body seemed to channel into his voice, into the honest plea that came out with it. Arms tight around a frail body to keep a little warmth.

The next icicle hit, pushed straight through the boy's leg. The pain was very real, and if it persisted, the nerve damage might be, too. There was a simple solution to this problem, though - leave. In the real world, he was safe, and warm, and there was nothing to _gain_ here, anyway, or so the wind whispered. She never forgot. She would not forgive.

Ardyn cried out, not even trying to hide the pain he was in. Dropped into the snow, blood, red, so very _red_ blood spoiling the immaculate white.

" _Please_." The word almost came in unison with the scream, pressed out from between Prompto's clenched jaw. A deep, ragged breath. Two. He held on to Ardyn's arm. If he wasn't going to let go, neither was Prompto. "W-we only want... to t-talk. P-please just listen."

"Quicksilver. Leave. Please. This is between her and me. This place is hers, and she..." A hard breath. "She will not hurt the Oracle, will you, pearl of the frozen lakes?"

Still no reply. Prompto was shaking, the detail of his own work coming back to haunt him with every bit of cold and electricity pushing his muscles to spasm. "Can't," he said. "I'm stuck."

“On your feet, Prom.“ The boy dragged himself closer to his new friend, leg useless, but numbed by the cold, “you know. _Oldschool_.“

"Still can't." Not only for the lack of a physical place to go in this form, but also because his legs weren't taking orders from him. He sighed. "That went well."

"I told-- no." A bloody hand upon his arm. "I'm _sorry_. If you..." So many things to say about holding grudges and letting go and acting ones age, but he said none of them. "Come here. It's going to be okay. Really. This time, it's gonna be okay. She won't let an innocent man die." _Of course, she would. Again and again she had, but he would not tell him that._

"You used to be a better liar... but yeah. It's not over yet." He could barely keep his eyes open. "You need to-- You... Your leg, you don't want the pain to stick."

"Screw that. Never managed twenty anyway." Whispered words, huddled up against the only man that had been _kind_ to him in lifetimes. He didn't feel real, not more than a dream dissolving in the early hours of the morning.

"Guess we'll be here for a while, then." Prompto's voice was quiet, eyes closed now. His right hand was still holding the Trident, knuckles as white as the snow around them.

"Guess we will..." He hugged the man, his new Oracle, to keep a little more of his warmth, or the _idea_ of it, but also to get a grip of the weapon. To try and ask for its power. Maybe there was not only guilt and debt left, but some resonance from blessed times ages ago. Maybe...

" _Shiva? My beloved? If I go, if I leave you alone, will he come with me? I've seen you want me to go, but you won't let him, and I... won't leave him behind._ " Ardyn's lips moved in silence, thoughts woven around the beautiful face of merciful death he remembered so well.

Time passed, and as Prom's heartbeat slowed - _heartbeat, why did he have a heartbeat here_ \- the rage of the storm slowly calmed. He was tired, so very tired. Not even cold anymore, even as the boy at his side was shivering like young leaves in the breeze. Big, downy snowflakes were falling in silence now, covering them, slowly making them one with the world around them. Maybe just a little nap...

“Fancy meeting _you_ here.“ The voice of a woman, sultry and low and, ever so slightly, _pissed_. He could barely bring himself to open his heavy lids, but Ardyn's weight was lifted from his body. “So _your Oracle_ wishes to talk. What is the title they call you these days? Gutter king?“

“Little fucker, mostly.“ Ardyn's voice was meek. “'s nice to see you again.“

“If your Oracle has anything to say, he should talk _now_.“

Prom felt a gentle touch on his forehead, and all of a sudden was back again, back in this snowy field, with the boy and _her_ , this very beautiful, very blue and very naked lady that towered over them, filling the sky and stood with them at the same time.

“Go ahead.“

Prompto blinked, breathed deeply to sort his thoughts. "Two millenia are a long time. Two more centuries after all should have been said and done. I know what he did. I remember now. I close my eyes and I can feel it in my bones." Another deep breath. "I forgive him. Enough at least to allow him to forget. And if I can do it... if a mere mortal can do it..." He closed his eyes again, too worn out to keep them open. "Please. It's enough."

"Is that what _you want_ , Ardyn? To forget? To _end_?"

"I--" Before the Astral, there suddenly was doubt in the boy's voice. "I..."

"You?"

"I guess I can't ask for a second chance to make things right, now can I?"

Ice clinking and jingling, like little bells and laughter, and the ghost of a smile on the Glacian's face, cold lips almost touching his.

"Close your eyes."


End file.
